


These hollow bones.

by rosmarine



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7613278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosmarine/pseuds/rosmarine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard’s head was a lot clearer than it was a few hours ago, and he saw the halo of light shining down from the cloudy sky, illuminating the perfect solution to his problem. Richard found that he had a boyfriend when convenient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These hollow bones.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [ten-bobcats](https://ten-bobcats.tumblr.com) for betaing. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Also I know nothing about running a business, computer programming, or the actual timeline for the series because i watched all of the episodes out of order. Enjoy!!

Richard wiped his palms against his khakis. Across the bar, Shelly glanced at him, cupping her hands around her mouth as she whispered into the receiver of her cell phone.

Richard had accidentally pursued enough taken girls to know when they’re calling for backup. Most likely jealous, incredibly muscular backup. He glanced back at the table, picking up his glass of scotch and knocking it back.

_ Oh god, bad choice, bad choice. _ If he was getting beat up, he may as well be drunk enough to not feel it. Richard sputtered, the alcohol scorching his throat.

“Richard, I am so sorry.” His head shot up, and his heart skipped a beat. Shelly’s eyebrows were a smooth line this time, instead of the worried crease Richard had grown so accustomed to seeing. 

“What?” he asked. His brain couldn’t catch up. Richard freaked out Shelly - he’d been stalking her for years. Or at least, it sure as hell looked that way, thanks to a series of very unfortunate misunderstandings. 

Shelly places a hand on his shoulder. It was warm, and her nails neatly manicured. Richard dragged his gaze towards her face. 

“Your boyfriend explained everything,” she said, nodding towards -  _ Jared? _ “I can see now, this is all a huge misunderstanding on my part. You’re lucky - he seems pretty crazy about you. Good luck, and stay safe.”

Shelly thought he was fucking Jared. 

For an irrational second, Richard wanted to scream,  _ no, I’m not gay, why does everyone just assume that?  _ Even google recommended him gay dating sims aps. But Richard’s head was a lot clearer than it was a few hours ago, and he saw the halo of light shining down from the cloudy sky, illuminating the perfect solution to his problem. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut.

And there was also the small fact that Richard would be lying just a little bit.

Richard nodded. He shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. 

“Well,” he said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Shelly shot him a watery smile, squeezing his shoulder a final time, and left. Richard contemplated another scotch - Monica probably had a company tab open - when Jared popped up. Jared, who looked like death warmed over and probably just saved Richard from getting the daylights beat out of him the day before the most important presentation of his life.

_ God. _

“Hey, Jared,” he said, before his mind could run away from him, “thanks. I know we sometimes take you for granted, but the whole team -  _ I -  _ really appreciate you. Your effort.”

And that’s probably as eloquent as Richard was going to be that night.

Richard stared at the wrinkle in Jared’s collar. The bags under Jared’s eyes had bags. His entire face illuminated in a smile. “Thank you, Richard. That means a lot to me.”

For a second, they grinned at each other. The hazy bar atmosphere surrounded them, a cradle of low lighting and soft music and the warm buzz of alcohol. For a second, Richard thought, if this were some alternate universe, where they were both still working at Hooli and had never once crossed paths, where they met at a bar and had stable jobs, he’d buy Jared a drink.

Well, maybe he wouldn’t go that far. But he’d admire Jared from afar. He might have a few dreams, maybe pop back in, try to talk to him about stale peanuts and tabs versus spaces. 

“If you don’t mind,” said Jared, “I have been awake for 43 hours straight, and I’m going to go upstairs and pass while curled up in the fetal position. Good night.”

“Good night.”

*

After that, Richard found that he had a boyfriend when convenient.

The basket of red bull and oreos rested heavily on his arm. He stopped at the chip aisle - did Erlich ask for bacon flavored pringles, or was it the cinnamon churros? He glanced at his watch. Oh god, it was already 11 p.m. and he really needed to finish the module by the next morning for Peter Gregory. Peter had devoted the entirety of next week to cranberry fungus, and an early morning meeting is all that he could allot Pied Piper. It sucked, but Richard had to keep the company afloat.

He grabbed both cans and booked it towards checkout. The cashier had pink stick-on nails and dimples when she smiled.

“Find everything okay?” she asked. 

“Wha - yeah, I guess.” Richard squashed the urge to rock back and forth. It was probably going to take him another twenty minutes to walk back to Erlich’s, unless he caught a lift, but that cost money that he may or may not have.

“You know, I’m kind of surprised you aren’t buying rat repellent,” said the cashier.

Richard blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I’m a huge fan of Pied Piper.” Richard glanced at the cashier’s name tag. It read  _ Helen _ , with a rainbow sticker next to it.

“Thanks, Helen,” he said. “It’s always nice to have a fan. When I come back here after the whole thing has tanked, please don’t say anything.”

The skin around Helen’s eyes crinkled when she smiled.  “What? I would never.  _ It _ would never happen.” She bit her lips. “If it were to tank, I’d still be rooting for you.” Her tongue peeked out from between her teeth, the same color as her nails.

Richard piled his groceries into a canvas bag he kept shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. He extended his hand out for a receipt.

“If this is way outta line, you can just say so,” said Helen, and for once in his life Richard knew exactly what’s going to happen and he refused to be a part of it, “but would you like to go out for a drink sometime?”

Helen meant a  _ drink _ drink. Richard couldn’t, with his company still being a screaming, wailing baby. And Helen had such pretty nails, and was genuinely interested in Pied Piper, and Richard just couldn’t live with crushing her.

“Sorry,” he said, “I have a boyfriend.” 

Helen shrugs. “My bad. Have a good night, you hear?” 

Richard’s sneakers squeaked against the freshly waxed floor. “Thanks, Helen.”

That night, he got about twenty minutes of sleep and barely had time to wash his face before meeting Peter.

*

Without Richard noticing, the whole thing slowly became real. Jared mentioned sleeping in the garage, which was unthinkable..

“Jared, this is ridiculous,” said Richard, his gut churning. “Just come sleep in my room.”

“Yeah, it’s about time you consummated your goddamn marriage,” said Gilfoyle. He was hunched over a desktop. 

Richard slipped his fingers around as many clothing hangers as he could. He raised them pretty high, stumbling over his feet as he avoided treading on the hems of the pants - and wasn’t there a way to do this without creating wrinkles? God, did the house even  _ have _ an iron?

The next time there was a penny in the budget, Richard thought, he was going to buy Jared something nice.

*

The glowing numerals of the digital kitchen clock read 11:45, and Jared clinked a plastic knife against his glass. 

The yellow ball rolled away from Dinesh’s fingertips, and Gilfoyle patted him on the back for another streak. Richard swirled around the lite beer that was in his solo cup, warmth pooling in his stomach. They were celebrating - something. Overcoming another insurmountable hurdle. Monica had stopped by, but she got an emergency text from Laurie and had to leave.

“To the most dedicated person in all of silicon valley,” said Jared. “The only man willing to stand up to the soulless face of corporate employees, who never once gave up on what he built from the ground up, who gave me a job, and who is going to improve the world.”

And -  _ oh, god. _ If Richard had actually been drinking anything, he would have sputtered and choked it all out. 

A deathly silence followed.

Richard’s face felt like it was on fire. His cup was empty, but he sipped it anyways.

“Hey, we did all of that bullshit, too, you know,” said Dinesh.

“Every time there’s even a slight wind of a downturn you try to jump ship,” said Gilfoyle, flicking Dinesh on the back of his neck, “and you aren’t even successful.”

“Well, you know else who’s unsuccessful? You, everytime you try to get an erection.”

Gilfoyle leaned back in his chair, taking a long sip of his beer.

Dinesh turned pink.

“Okay, I don’t want to think too much about what just happened,” said Richard, “so it’s time to bid you all goodnight. Great work, team.” He stumbled out of the room, clapping Jared on the back. Jared’s shoulder blades went rigid underneath his palm. 

Richard rounded the corner, but noise from the kitchen carried out.

“I believe it’s also time for me to get some beauty rest,” said Jared, and Richard almost grimaced. “Good night as well.”

Richard flattened himself against the wall. Jared’s gangly figured approached, and Richard grabbed his wrist. Jared’s eyes popped open, and Richard motioned him to be silent.

“I bet you 200 bitcoin they’re about to go fuck,” said Dinesh. Someone huffed.

“I’d have to be an idiot to take that bet. Hey, Erlich, I bet you 200 bitcoin Richard and Jared are about to go fuck.”

Richard rolled his eyes and kept walking. He unbuttoned his shirt as Jared shut the door. One button was pretty damn stubborn. He struggled for a moment before just yanking the shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor.

“Does it bother you?” asked Jared. Richard unbuttoned his jeans. Usually, he and Jared avoided undressing while the room was occupied but fatigue hung on Richard like the weight of the world.

“What?” Richard asked.

He shucked off his jeans and whipped around. Jared stood before him, fully dressed, his hands clasped in front of his stomach.

“That the others think we’re involved sexually.”.

“Oh, hell no. I am way too busy dealing with crisis after crisis, trying to save my life’s calling from falling into an inferno to care what those assholes think. And I know you too well to think you care either, right?” Richard suppressed a shiver. He softened his voice. “ I sweated through my sheets last night and forgot to wash them, and I think I’m a little too drunk to make it up the ladder. Could I crash down here?”

Jared nodded, and Richard collapsed onto the cot. He heard the crinkling of clothes coming off, and he slid onto his side. After a few heartbeats, the cot dipped as Jared slid into the empty space beside him. He let out a content hum and tugged at the blanket, the rough wool scratching his skin. He was sensitive - it would probably leave him red and itchy in the morning.

“Thanks, Jared,” he mumbled, “it’s nice to know at least one person in the world doesn’t think of me as an easily replaceable pile of trash.”

Richard might have fallen asleep before he heard a response, but he felt warm arms wrap around him and a heavy weight press against his back.

*

Richard slept dreamlessly, and he awoke to the unnatural feeling of someone watching him. He blinked his eyes open, into a face full of Jared’s chest. “Good morning,” he mumbled, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. “God, how can you stand sleeping on that thing? It’s like laying on a loaf of really stale bread.”

Jared shrugged. “It’s better than a cardboard box.” 

“Wait, have you actually slept - “

“Richard, I’m so proud of you! No night sweats!” Richard ran a hand through his hair. It was still greasy and unwashed, but it definitely didn’t stick to his forehead.

“Yeah,” he said, “and as far as I know, you weren’t screaming angrily in German.”

Jared burst out laughing, swatting at the air. “Oh, Richard, you’re such a kidder.”

*

Richard had grown accustomed to some extent of notoriety. People gossiped in Silicon Valley, and he’d been on talk shows and in magazines. But the point was, buttons had started popping off Richard’s dress shirts, and Jared was the only other person in the incubator whose sleepwear hadn’t leaked into his office attire.

Richard stood in front of a sea of collared shirts. Every color, print, label imaginable spread out across a table large enough to seat Richard’s entire extended family, including children. Richard have a lot of cousins. 

A shiver ran down his spine. God, he hadn’t done this since - college? Before he dropped out? He just wanted to grab what he could carry and get out.

“Richard?” Richard turned, letting out a shriek. There was a towering pile of dress shirts stalking him. No - just Jared, poking his head around the pile.

“I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but I picked out a few that I thought would compliment your complexion.”

“Thanks, Jared, but we really don’t have the money for me to go on a spending spree like this.”

“You should try them on. Keep your favorites.”

Jared tilted his head towards a corner of the store with a giant sign reading  _ Dressing Rooms. _ Richard did grab as many shirts as he can carry, and he followed. 

The room was a small cavity with a floor length mirror and walls that stretched from floor to ceiling. Scribbled in the highest corner of the room, out of Richard’s reach, read the message, “Time is an enigma. Reality is an illusion. Kanye sucks.” He locked the door, turning the handle experimentally. It opened easily.  _ Shitty fixture _ . Richard sighed, unzipping his hoodie.

The first shirt was blue gingham. He buttoned it all the way up to his collar. His reflection prominently displayed the bags under his eyes and the droop of his curls. 

He throat constricted, and he undid the top button. He held back a laugh. How had he gotten this far in life looking like a malnourished sixteen year old? He posture resembled an abused child. His stomach churned.

Theoretically, this should have been easy. Compared to the coding Richard had done, the heads he’d butted, picking out clothes should’ve been a walk in the park. 

Richard popped his head out. Across the doorway, Jared sat on a bench, his head hunched over his cell phone.

“You don’t have to wait around,” said Richard, his voice hoarse, “I might be a while.”

Jared’s head shot up. His guileless eyes brightened, and he smiled. “Nonsense. It sometimes helps to have a second opinion, and I would like to be here to provide one.”

Richard cracked open the door, slumping against the frame. He crossed his arms.

“I don’t know,” he said, “Actually, I do know. I know that I look ridiculous.” Which is bullshit, because he was just buying clothes identical to the ones he’d been wearing every day of his life since he was twenty. 

“Sorry, Jared, but I’m just not feeling up to it.”

Jared’s face shifted. “Richard, you look good. I know you don’t always see it, but you do. You look like some tech adonis crawled into your mother’s womb and blessed your tiny fetus.”

Richard scratched the back of his head. “Well, I’m, uhm, assuming you did not just insult my mother.”

“Would a few encouraging words from fans lift your spirits?” asked Jared.

“What fans?”

“I’ve been maintaining an active social media account in the company’s name. We have a healthy amount of followers on Instagram, and they all seem to love the pictures of baby birds I sometimes post.”

Jared raised his phone, and the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter filled the air. 

“No, Jared, don’t post that,” said Richard. He pictured a few dozen people seeing his tired eyes, and - oh god, where was the nearest trashcan? 

Jared’s gaze fell. His eyebrows creased, and a wave of pure guilt rolled through Richard’s stomach.

“Sorry,” said Jared, “that was out of line. I’m intruding on your privacy.”

Richard pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what? Fuck it. Post the fucking picture and tell me how many people post gifs of themselves vomiting in the comments.”

“Okay, I’m posting now.” 

Richard slammed the door behind him, his fingers hurriedly unbuttoning the shirt. He threw it into a heap on the floor, the picked it back up and folded it neatly. His arm was already shoved through the sleeve of the t-shirt he wore into the store when there was a tapping on his door.

“Oh, wow, Richard, you’ve already gotten two hundred likes. That’s almost as many as the ducklings I fed last week.” 

“What? Let me see that.” Richard ripped open the door. If he had taken a step forwards, he would’ve been pressed against Jared’s chest. Richard yanked the phone out of Jared’s hands. The photo quality was pretty good, the lighting was pretty bad, and the subject was, well, pathetic. The caption read  _ Doesn’t he look stunning? _ Accompanying it was an emoji of a smiling face with heart eyes.

The comments ranged from somebody’s grandma commenting “what a sweet young boy with a nice booty” to “10/10 would bang” to straight up propositions involving terms that Richard was definitely not going to look up on urban dictionary later that night. But the majority of comments were...unsettling.

“Jared?” asked Richard.

“Yes?”

“Why does everyone think we’re fucking?”

For a moment, Jared was silent.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Richard, I have absolutely no clue.”

Richard looked back at the small mountain of clothing.

“Okay,” he said, “so I think I’m going to get that shirt in, like, every color available and call it a day.”

*

_ Slam. _

“Richard, I think someone is trying to steal your identity and taunting you about it!” There was the heavy sound of paper smacking against the countertop.

Richard leaned back in his chair. “What? Erlich, why would you say that?”

Erlich waved around a lime green envelope, pointing to the return address. Richard placed his mug down on a coaster. He glanced at the envelope, addressed to himself, from another Richard Hendricks who lived in Tulsa.

“Erlich, that’s a letter from my grandpa. I’m named after him.”

“Isn’t that what the government wants you to think?” Erlich tossed the envelope on the table, turned around and stomped away.

Richard let out a sigh. He thumbed the envelope, tearing it open. God, his grandfather taped those things shut like they held government secrets. 

The striped cardstock rested heavy in his hands. It was his parent’s anniversary, which he had completely forgotten about, in three days. His heart ached - he hadn’t seen his family since, when - two Thanksgivings ago? He tried to remember which political issues his mother had banned from discussing at the table.

Richard wandered into the office. 

“Jared, how many more impending interviews are we processing?” he asked.

Jared’s long fingers clicked at the keys. Richard really didn’t see him do much of anything else. 

Jared cocked his head. “I’d say around three hundred and fifty-six. But don’t hold me to that.”

Richard pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, Jesus. Hey, Jared, I’ve got a family thing. Would you mind coming along so we can work through those numbers?”

“And meet the people who raised you? Richard, it would be an honor. I’ve always wondered what a fully functional family unit looked like up close.”

“Great, thanks, man. We leave on Friday and come back on Monday morning.”

*

They spent the plane ride switching laptops, talking in hushed tones. Their arguments were subdued and eloquent. Richard couldn’t help but compare it to when he and Erlich made decisions. The man was like a willow, unwilling to yield to the wind.

Richard’s sister, Adrienne, picked them up from the airport, swooping him into a hug.  _ Good, _ thought Richard,  _ at least she didn’t bring the bear and balloons like last time. _

He had to admit, when he walked into his house with Jared trailing behind him, his parents weren’t even a little shocked. He had told them over the phone he had to bring someone along for work, and his mother had just said that it was perfect, four people really wasn’t enough for family game night.

He entered the house, and he was hit with the spicy aroma of cinnamon and oranges. God, he loved Palo Alto, but sometimes it just didn’t feel like home. 

“Richard!” Mrs. Hendricks threw her arms around Richard, and he kissed her on the cheek.

“Hi, ma. You’ve been cooking up a storm?”

She pulled back. “Of course. I took this wonderful cooking course last May, which you would’ve known if you ever came home.”

Richard’s gaze dropped. “I’m sorry I can’t make it home more often.

“Oh, don’t beat yourself up. I’ve seen you on the news, I know my only boy is working hard.” Her gaze drifted to the figure stooping in the doorway. “And you must be Jared! God, Richard talks about you like you’re Jesus Christ sometimes.”

Jared grinned sheepishly, sticking out a hand. Mrs. Hendricks bypassed it, giving Jared a kiss on the cheek instead. Oh, god, Jared’s face absolutely lit up, like a kid opening up a new video game console on Christmas morning.

“A little birdie told me it was someone’s anniversary,” said Jared, “so we took the liberty of getting you a gift.” He reached into his messenger bag, extracting a gift box with a golden bow on the top. Richard’s ears burned. He hadn’t exactly had time to buy his parents a gift since he was sixteen. Surely Jared hadn’t - 

“Goodness gracious, it’s perfect!” Tattered remains of wrapping paper scattered the floor. Mrs. Hendricks held up a set of cherry blossom pajamas that Richard definately did not recognize. She swooped both him and Jared into a hug, crushing them.

“My perfect little boys,” she said.  _ Maybe this is what it feels like to have a brother, _ thought Richard. But that wasn’t right. He and Jared - they weren’t anything like brothers. Well, if they were brothers, it would make a lot of things weird. Like occasionally waking up with morning wood pressed against Richard’s back. 

“Come on,” said Mrs. Hendricks, “I’m going to go try these on and we can have a pajama party. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

*

Richard passed through the weekend like it was a dream. He had meals with his family, baked cobblers, made candles, played board games, sang along to the radio, everything he used to do growing up. But he also spent the entire weekend stretched along Jared’s hip. 

“You two are living together, right?” asked Adrienne. Mrs. Hendricks was around the back of the house showing Jared her hummingbird feeder while Richard and his sister sliced apples with dull knives - Mrs. Hendricks never had anything sharper than a butter knife after a single avocado incident that had sent Adrienne’s boyfriend of the time to the emergency room.

“Yeah, we are. But it’s not like that.” The knife clacked against the cutting board. They hadn’t bothered peeling the apples; his mother thought it gave the filling a unique texture.

“Not like what?”

“Jared and I aren’t actually together.” Richard had so much practice saying it, over and over, but the words felt foreign on his tongue. Like he was telling her that the sky was green or that the sun orbited the earth. 

“Shit, really?” asked Adrienne. Her pile of apple slices was much more impressive than Richard’s. “Then why does he trail after you like a little lost puppy?”

Richard grabbed a handful of flour, tossing it at her. “Stop, Ad. He does not.”

“I don’t mean to throw mom under the bus, but she thinks you two have secretly eloped and are hiding an adopted child.”

Well, it was a good thing Richard’s knife was struggling to cut the skin of the apple, because the way his fist clenched and the blade skittered off the cutting board could have left him with a finger less. A very important finger that he used to code. 

“Well, I hate to break mom’s heart, but I doubt she’ll be getting any grandkids from me and Jared.” Richard cocked his head. He glanced out the window. Jared had out a handful of birdseed and was coaxing a small gray bird into his palm.

Richard’s heart warmed. “A grand-parakeet might not be out of the question.”

*

Richard’s eyelids were heavy on the flight home. He felt the cramped air of the cabin. He couldn’t look out the window without wanting to vomit, so he had Jared switch seats with him. It seemed as though the entire airplane was out cold, men and women exhausted from a day spent navigating airport security. Richard’s head kept bobbing onto Jared’s shoulder. 

“I can’t believe we’re flying,” said Richard. Sleep made him loopy. “Like birds.”

“Birds are able to take flight because they have hollow bones,” said Jared. 

“Does this mean we have hollow bones, too? Maybe that’s how Erlich can eat so much quinoa.” 

Jared chuckled, a deep rumble reverberating through his chest. Richard felt it all the way up his spine. “No, Richard. We are not made up of hollow bones. We’re people.”

Richard thought of Gavin, surrounded by people who didn’t even have to balls to tell him his company was a piece of chit. He thought of Big Head, who spent his days goofing off.

“People can be hollow,” he mumbled. Richard glanced at Jared. It was too dark in the cabin for Richard to tell whether his eyes were open or shut.

The silence hung in the air like a heavy fog. 

“Richard,” he said, his voice calculating, “do you feel hollow?”

“Oh, god. Yes. But doesn’t everybody, at some point or another? Isn’t the world just brimming with hollow men and women?”

“I used to feel hollow. Then I joined Pied Piper.”

The pride that swelled in Richard’s chest provided just enough warmth for him to fall asleep.

*

“Are we going to do this every night?” asked Jared. Richard tensed. They were back at home, curled around each other on the same cot. His hair tickled Jared’s chin. 

Okay, so maybe Richard spent the last week finding excuses to sneak into Jared’s cot. It was just that the last time he woke up next to another body, he’d been in college and it was, like, one night. It was nice, spending the few hours he managed to catch of sleep with someone else. With Jared.

Richard rolled onto his back. He rubbed his eyes. He may have been the stupidest genius on the planet, but even he knew he was taking advantage of Jared.

“Because I’m enjoying it,” said Jared, “and I have a suspicion that you are, too.”

_ What _ ? Oh, god. What if Jared’s awkward aloofness was just a mask to cover up the fact that he’s a mindreader? Richard read a comic book about someone who did that. Did Jared also know that Richard kind of liked it when their knees touched under the table, and he liked it when Jared leaned over his shoulder to read a webpage, and that Richard had read some of the fanfiction people actually wrote about them?

(Richard once tried looking up a photo of them together for a birthday gift. It’s crazy what you get when you google  _ Richard Hendricks Jared Dunn _ .)

“Look, Jared,” Richard said, trying not to let his voice shake, “sleeping against another body isn’t going to stop the night sweats.”

“That’s okay. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve woken up covered in strange bodily fluids.”

Richard could pinpoint the exact moment when his feelings started to change. Maybe, all along, he’d been fooling himself into believing that work kept him too busy to deal with big, dirty feelings. But suddenly, it  _ did  _ bother him that the entire universe seemed to think he was dating Jared Dunn, because he was not, but he really wanted to be.

Jared’s arm wrapped around him, settling low on his hip. Jared’s fingers were long, rubbing circles with a delicate deliberation. Richard glanced over. Jared’s eyes were closed, his eyelashes lying darkly against his cheeks. Jared let out a content hum and curled just a little bit closer.

Richard toppled off the cot. “Nope, I can’t do this.” He leapt to his feet, rubbing a hand against his mouth and pacing the length of the room. 

“What?” said Jared, his voice drowsy. He sat up, but Richard had already grabbed the spare blanket off his bunk (the one he’d complained had been eaten by moths and didn’t keep him warm enough) and slammed the door shut behind him. 

The house was asleep. Bottles rattled as Richard pulled open the fridge to grab a can of RedBull. He plopped down at his computer. The screen cast an eerily pale glow, the only light in the darkened room. There was a hiss as Richard popped the tab and sipped it like it was scotch.

There was no scramble, no meltdown of the week to excuse his owlish behavior. But Richard could always get ahead with his work. 

He double clicked on the Pied Piper logo, and he began to type.

With this mind and body busy, he could almost ignore the steady thrumming of his heart.

Almost.

*

“So you’re in a committed romantic relationship?” asked his lawyer, leafing through a few pages of email. They were back at the house. Richard hadn’t seen Jared in two days, even though there always seemed to be a blanket around him when he awoke after falling asleep in front of his computer and a warm cup of coffee at his elbow in the morning.

“What? No, absolutely not,” said Richard. His fingers curled into fists.

“It’s all right, Richard,” said Erlich, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you don’t need to hide true love from us. It’s deceitful, and punishable by death in other countries. The deceit, not the homosexuality thing.”

Richard’s eyebrows formed a deep crease. “No, Erlich, Jared and I aren’t actually dating. We never were.”

And, oh god, was Erlich silent? Had Richard actually stunned him speechless?

“Then to whom are you referring to as your ‘boyfriend’ in these emails?” asked Pete.

“That’s my laptop,” said Richard. “You know, because it’s the only warm thing that’s touched my bits in a really long time.”

Pete’s expression slowly transformed into something mortified. “Your computer was in the shop for three days. During that time, you tested your program. Where did you get a computer to test it?”

And slowly, it dawned on Richard. He’s wrong. He was so wrong. His gut clenched. Sweat beaded on his brow. Because he wasn’t as golden and pure as he thought he was - he used a Hooli computer, and now Gavin was suing him, and now Gavin actually had grounds to win this lawsuit. Richard was actually fucked to Jupiter.

The entire future of Pied Piper depended on a group of educated adults believing that Richard Hendricks had a boyfriend.

*

Erlich’s outburst left the walls of the room trembling. Anger radiated off him in waves, and Richard would feel sorry for the guy if he hadn’t just cracked the armor that Richard and his lawyer had spent so long carefully constructing. 

Richard’s hands vibrated as he was called to the stand. He needed a glass of water. He needed a line of code to fix. He needed someone to hold his hand, like he was sixteen and had his heart broken for the very first, and absolutely not the last, time.

The lady lawyer in front of him could’ve been carved from steel. 

“Richard Hendricks,” she asked, “How long has it been since you maintained a romantic relationship?”

Richard’s mind flatlined. All he could see is Gavin smirking, the Pied Piper logo circling his head like a planet orbiting the sun. He  _ couldn’t  _ lie, not about this.

He blinked, and the attorney was back at Gavin’s table. Hushed whispers wafted through the air like prayers as she conferred with the other attorneys.

“My apologies, Mr. Hendricks. You may take your seat.”

Dazedly, Richard exited the stand. His feet took him back to his chair.

“What happened?” he breathed. “Did I black out?”

Erlich just pinched the arm of his suit jacket. “No. Are you absolutely sure you’re not dating Jared? Because apparently the entire internet thinks you are, and the sexual tension between you two dickheads may have just won us this case.”

*

Richard’s hands couldn’t stop twitching. He wanted to run around, to get roaring drunk, to kiss someone.

He turned his key in the lock and he threw open the door. 

Jared sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by empty chairs, staring at his phone. Waiting for a text that never came to destroy all of Pied Piper.

“Jared? Where are Erlich and the others?”

Jared’s head shot up. There were more lines in his forehead than Richard remembered, but it’d been awhile since he actually looked at Jared instead of dancing around him. 

“I believe they’re outside, straining to reach the perfect lemon,” he said.

“We won,” said Richard, and his face split into a huge grin. Jared jumped to his feet like an excited puppy, barrelling. He slid to a stop and Richard threw open his arms. They hugged, and Richard’s feet dangled above the floor.

“I had faith in you, Richard. I knew you wouldn’t be stupid enough to use company property to run your test!”

Richard plopped back down on the ground. “Well, actually, I was. I mean, I did. I mean - the jury made a mistake. No, I made a mistake.”

“Richard, what are you talking about?”

Richard rubbed a hand over his face. Fuck eloquence. 

“There was a thing about my boyfriend,” he babbled, “but it wasn’t really my boyfriend, it was just my laptop, and then they all assumed you were my boyfriend, which was wrong but I didn’t want to tell them that, because then we’d lose, and - fuck, Jared. Gavin wanted you back, and I don’t know if I could be Pied Piper without you. I wouldn’t  _ want _ to.” 

“Richard, you’re not making any sense.”

“Well that’s too fucking bad,” said Richard, and he stepped forward. Jared’s eyes darted to his lips, and Richard’s jaw ached from smiling. He surged forwards, and he kissed Jared. He  pushed himself up onto his tiptoes, he resting his arms around Jared’s neck. 

Jared’s lips were chapped, like he’d spent too long biting them. Jared shuffled forwards until they were pressed together in a solid line. They broke apart. Richard flung his car keys onto the kitchen table, and Jared’s hands loosened Richard’s tie. He could breath. 

He kissed Jared again. Jared’s hands rose to cup his face, and Richard didn’t mind being the one treated like a delicate flower. Their noses bumped, and Richard broke the kiss. 

He pressed his lips to the hollow of Jared’s throat, his pulse, wherever he could reach. But the reality of the day hit him, and he sagged forwards, pressing his forehead to Jared’s chest.

“You saved my ass and you didn’t even know it,” he said against Jared’s beating heart. “I would’ve followed you back to Hooli.” Jared’s arm rested heavily around his shoulder. 

“Oh, Richard, Gavin never would’ve hired you again. You’re probably blacklisted. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

A high pitched, girlish yelp resonated through the kitchen. Jared’s grip tightened.

“This is just unfair.” 

Richard lifted his head. Erlich, Dinesh, and Gilfoyle stood in the doorway. Erlich’s hand gripped a bulging lemon, threatening to burst.

“What kind of cruel god,” Erlich continued, “puts two perfect people on this planet and blinds them to each other?” Richard expected Erlich to drop to his knees and throw his hands towards the heavens.

“Relax, Erlich. We’re, uhm, together?” Richard ended on a question. untangling himself from Jared. He glanced towards Jared, who nodded.

“You don’t have to pretend now that the trial’s over,” said Erlich.

“No! I would never. I mean it. It was pretty recent, actually. Just now.”

“Am I the only one who thinks this is pretty weird, guys?” asked Dinesh. ”It’s like incubee-cest. Incest-ubee.” 

Gilfoyle glared at him, then turned to face the room.

“Sometimes, Dinesh and I fuck while my girlfriend watches,” he said, his face neutral. “Or while she doesn’t watch.”

Okay. Richard needed a drink, really bad.

“Well,” Richard said. “I could’ve gone my entire life without knowing about your sex lives.”

“Get used to it,” said Gilfoyle. He stalked up to Richard, pointing a finger to his chest. “If you two ever have shower sex and I have to pee, I’m urinating in your bed.” He left, and Richard heard the clattering of glasses. Probably a bottle of vodka. 

“Sorry, Jared,” said Dinesh, “just because you’re getting laid on the regular doesn’t mean you’ll stop being the butt of our jokes.”

“Oh, I expect that the jokes will get increasingly cruel,” said Jared. Dinesh rolled his eyes and left, calling after Gilfoyle.

Erlich strode up to them, placing a hand on each of them. “I’m so happy for you two,” he said, his face glowing. “But if you think you can fuck your way to the top, I’m releasing ferrets into your pants while you sleep.” He pulled them both into a hug. Richard’s arm squished against Erlich’s stomach. Erlich stepped away, idly tossing the lemon from hand to hand. 

“That was by far the most threatening shotgun speech I have ever heard,” said Jared.

“Well, I guess you can’t break my heart now.” Richard laughed awkwardly. 

A dopey grin stretched across Jared’s face, and Richard’s cheeks heated. 

“Oh, Richard, I would never.”

Something fluttered in Richard’s stomach. He didn’t even feel like vomiting. 

“We should probably go tell the team we won,” said Jared. Oh, god, yes. That was so important. Richard grabbed Jared’s hands. 

“Just a second,” he said. Richard wanted to curl up in this moment, roll it between his fingers and live in it for the rest of his life. He kissed Jared again, thumbing over his cheekbones. 

Laughter trickled in from the other room, followed by the sharp scent of citrus.

“Let’s get totally wasted and fuck tonight,” Richard whispered, pressing his nose against Jared’s jaw.

“I’d like that.”

That didn’t happen. After two drinks, Richard called it a night, and he fell asleep the moment he hit the mattress. Jared curled around him like a comma.

Pied Piper was pretty fucking important, but it wasn’t home.

Jared, on the other hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Also I'm a huge fan of comments and kudos.


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